Waiting

I watched time trickle through the hourglass

One grain at a time. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Seasons came and left, each with their marks,

Constellations danced across the sky

And yet- the silence stretched

And all was deafening and hollow simultaneously. 

No you. No me. Just empty words of a forever

That would never come. 

Lifetimes of chasing each other through blood

Came to a standstill here for once. 

No tears. No commemorative placard. 

I painted over all our nothings and watched 

The shine dry on our memories. 

Time's coming to an end, my dear,

And at its completion I'll stand atop Troy once again,

Eyes glued to that endless horizon,

My hand no longer empty, my eyes perpetually dry.

Where have you gone my Menelaus? 

Has time stood still for you?

How long should I?

Like Yesterday

 It's been 9 years and change.

I'm floating on a raft in outer space,

Tears cascading down my cheeks--

I was okay until now. 

Now I miss you. 

Time stood still and I shattered 

Into a kaleidoscope of misery--

Into a mosaic of despair...

You're still dead.

It's been 9 years and change

And I'm charcoal in this fucking flame. 

Intact

I scream your name, and when I close my eyes

I see galaxies behind my eyelids. 

I float about Everest's peak,

My hands skimming the milky way in my travel 

Around the world in 80 milliseconds. 

And there you are, nonchalantly staring back

As if you did not shatter who I am

And reassembled me with one deep breath,

Hand in mine, your breath - mine. 

I scream your name, and when my eyes fly open

I'm filled with gratitude. My knees unbruissed. 

My head unbowed. My soul intact. 

8 years

8 long years down the drain

And countless others since I last saw your smile.

Years without color. White and black. 

Drained of all that should have been. 

Could be but never was. 

Years with the occasional dream 

Punctuated by a man I barely recognize. 

When did you grow so tall, you vagabond? 

Sometimes you're happy and my heart is raw,

And I convince myself that you escaped. You're free. 

Sometimes you're broken and deal must be made.

What can I sell? What can I sacrifice 

To promise you the perfect afterlife? 

Seamstress

Needle in hand, I'm pleased to help. 

Mending hearts I didn't break

For men that will not love me,

Worse yet, for men that will abuse me. 

I love to serve at the altar of your

Greatness. My knowledge is a serviette 

For which to wipe your mouth on. 

I am the keeper of knowledge on how to undo

Your trauma. Your brokenness. 

I mend hearts and trauma and find glue

For all of the jagged pieces that others'

Carelessness has left behind.

Scars on my fingertips from holding the

Stitches. I've lost feeling and count of all

Of the sacrifices I've made. Time lost. 

Pieces of my soul that were woven into 

All of the broken hearts I picked up along the way. 

I mend. I play seamstress to the throwaway

Lovers that women better than me couldn't stand,

I bloody my hands trying to prove that

The shadow of doubt behind your ribs is a lie.

And what do I get? I confetti my heart

For your entertainment. 

For your satisfaction. 

Come closer, amore. Give me the scraps,

Open your chest and allow me some time

To mend you. To hold your regard

Until you believe me that you're all that I want. 

Allow me to heal you, through love, lies, and lips,

And once you're all better, you can forget. 

Ti Sento

Like a bloodhound, in my quest for joy,

I came across your scent, your memories

And I have sensed in you a similar longing 

To the one that seems to live inside my chest. 

You pulled me into the sweetness of your fantasies,

Wrapped me in dreams so soft I can't escape,

And on your lips, my name,

And in your dreams, my touch,

As I envelop and caress the loneliness away. 

I caught your scent and I wish you could see

Through my eyes, my lens, my poetry,

The cifer to the anecdote inside yourself,

The beating heart inside that lovely chest. 

One Last

I would like to write you from my soul,

Dip the nib inside my veins and pour

Every memory, every wish, and hope, and dream

Into existence. Into the record of the universe 

So that Time itself may know the depths 

Of what I've cared for you. 

I would spend the last drop of life within me,

To convince Fate to give me one more moment,

One more brush of sinners lips against each others'

So I can drown you in the depth of my absurdity. 

I would sell away my soul and everlasting essence

For just one touch of you my Menelaus,

So that the last heartbeat my chest will sound

Is the despair I've kept within me all along. 

Per Favore

Please don't look at me like that. 

As if you're drowning, lost at sea

And I'm the only raft for miles,

The stars you planned your courses by,

The northern lights you've 

Pinned your hopes into. 

Please, I beg of you, 

Like I've begged no man before,

Don't look at me like you've been searching

Centuries to find me again,

Like you have traveled the whole world over

For the chance to taste the hope

That's on my skin. 

Please, don't look at me like drowning men,

Don't throw your hands to gather me

Unless you mean to hold the raft. 

Unless you mean to give the truth

That I require as recompense

For saving you.  

Please.  I will believe you when your eyes

Meet mine, pupils dilated, lips parted,

And I can feel your heartbeat in my chest

Each time you look at me like this will be the last. 

Ti Penso

Which one of us is leading this dance?

Do I think of you because I miss the way

My heart beats faster in your presence,

Or do I miss the way you look at me,

Like I'm the battle raging on between your ribs?

Do I itch to feel the brush of your fingertips

Against the soft skin of my lips,

Is that what this feeling is? The need? The desire?

Or do I think of you because you think of me

And pull me into your inner monologue?

Do I dance for you, do I lay still in your arms?

Do you run those soft fingertips across my naked skin?

Do I want you because you're everything,

Or do I want you because you thirst for me?

Mercutio

When I am still I can feel you tugging at my seams,

Your expert thoughts fingering the stitches

Of my self control, of my self respect...

And I promised myself I'd be done with this game

But when all is still, when the world stops moving,

All I can feel are your hands tugging me forward. 

Will you be brave for me, my Mercutio,

And tell me that dreamers often lie?

Or will you wish a Pox so sweet upon our houses 

Both, that I can't help but be drawn forth,

That you can then collect me in your warm embrace,

And draw "shivers of pleasures" from our happy place?